


untitled (the kitten in rockdale)

by mistyzeo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: schmoop_bingo, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-25
Updated: 2010-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-12 02:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyzeo/pseuds/mistyzeo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there's a kitten in rockdale, tx.  based on a true story (sort of).</p>
            </blockquote>





	untitled (the kitten in rockdale)

  
In Rockdale, Texas, there was a kitten in the parking lot. She was a tiny thing with a tiny meow, huge green eyes, and gray fur all knotted up with brambles and sticks. She had a tail like a whip and a tongue like sandpaper, rasping over Sam's knuckles when he crouched down beside the car's wheel to see her.

The motel was on the edge of the highway, and Sam and Dean had to race across the exit ramp and walk into town on no sidewalk if they needed anything. The parking lot was half asphalt and half gravel, visible from it a diner that served catfish and an Arby's that stayed open all night. When the motel owner's wife caught Sam sitting on the curb, scratching the kitten under the chin, she yelled, "Don't you take that thing indoors!"

The kitten looked up at Sam, and then butted her tiny head against his hand again. He scooped her up, ignoring the owner's wife's long-distance glare, and set the kitten in his lap. She sat on her haunches and let him pull brambles one by one out of her fur, giving him reproachful looks every so often when he tugged too hard, and licking the places where his fingers had touched, erasing his scent from her body.

"We're not keeping that," Dean said, sitting down beside him. His jeans were torn at both knees and his boots were ragged, but his leather jacket creaked like new when he reached over to offer the tip of his finger to the kitten.

She sniffed it delicately, turned her cheek and let him rub her whiskers, and then settled back in Sam's lap, kneading at his thigh. It tickled. Sam pushed his fingers under her paws and moved her, and she glared up at him until he went back to picking the burrs.

"I'm serious, Sam."

"I know," Sam said.

Once he was done she could clean herself, and she spent hours sitting in front of their door, grooming and preening. Sam started feeding her slivers of turkey from his sandwiches, Cheerios out of his bowl, letting her lick the dregs of milk in the bottom.

"Sam," Dean hollered, "I didn't buy lunch meat so you could feed it to a fucking cat! Knock it off!"

Sam ignored him while the cat licked the taste of mayonnaise off his fingers, and then snuggled up to his thigh and lay down for a nap. He stroked her with one fingertip and she purred like a motorboat, narrow gray chest rising and falling, tail twitching.

She took a liking to Dean, eventually, when he'd come out often enough to sit with Sam in the gravel, smoking a cigarette and pretending he didn't notice her butting his elbow with her little head. He'd reach out without looking and she'd nuzzle his fingers, and once she even climbed up his jeans and sat on his knee, paws folded under her, eyes half closed, regarding the world from her perch with lazy satisfaction.

"We're not keeping her," Dean said.

The next afternoon, Dean bitched off and on for an hour about being out of smokes, but there were two cans of cat food in the grocery bag when Sam unpacked it.


End file.
